


The Adventure Of Baron Maupertuis And The Giant Rat Of Sumatra

by Cerdic519



Series: Further Adventures Of Mr. Sherlock Holmes [28]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Boats and Ships, Disguise, F/M, Justice, London, M/M, Murder, Rats, Slow Burn, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 17:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15124784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: The tale for which the world was not then prepared can now be told, and yet another criminal learns the hard way that those who live by the sword often die by it – with the help of a certain consulting detective, that is.





	The Adventure Of Baron Maupertuis And The Giant Rat Of Sumatra

**Author's Note:**

  * For [indygirl96](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indygirl96/gifts).



_Introduction by Sir Sherrinford Holmes, Baronet_

They do say that the human frame can bear a seemingly intolerable amount of strain – Kean is smirking at me from across the room as I write this, damn the fellow! - and this was brought home to me by this most potent of cases that my brother Sherlock undertook. It arose from an investigation that had started in a fairly low-key manner the previous year but, most alarmingly, accelerated to cause a series of attacks across the greatest metropolis in the world that would prove a terrible forerunner of what was to strike the East End only a short time later.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

_Narration by Doctor John Hamish Watson, M.D._

It was just over thirty years since Mr. Charles Darwin had published his great work, _On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life_ (and to think some people had the gall to claim that _my_ titles were too long!). The idea of Mankind evolving from an ape-like ancestor – not, as many opponents of the theory claimed, from modern apes was slowly becoming accepted scientific fact and I remember once wondering if, as the white man explored further into the thus far hidden reaches of our planet, we might not find some other members of our family tree. I could not then know that we already had, and that that discovery would impact on my own life so dramatically.

I have mentioned elsewhere the shock waves that reverberated across the Continent when once-mighty France had seen German troops marching through Paris, and had been subsequently forced to cede the provinces of Alsace and Lorraine to the Kaiser. As one might expect this had led Germany's neighbours to seriously consider their own positions, and that same year (1871) the Dutch had signed a treaty with the United Kingdom, ceding their lands in the Gold Coast (the area around Jamestown, West Africa) in return for a free hand over the island of Sumatra in the East Indies, where they wished to subdue the local tribes in order to secure the trade routes to the Spice Islands. Our country retained trading rights but no political ones as regards Sumatra, an island over twice the size of Great Britain and larger than the American state of California. Hence it was not unusual when a ship called the _“Matilda Briggs”_ arrived to London from Sumatra via Cape Town. Except that the cargo this ship was carrying would soon bring terror to London the like of which even it had never seen – and all because of one man.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

My friend's involvement in this case began with the death of Captain Thomas Warner, an event which was brought to his attention by the captain's first mate, a likeable old salt by name of Mr. Frederick Pyle. He had reported the death to his local station in the docks, and the sergeant there (for whom Holmes had done a service in the past) had advised him to also bring the case to Baker Street.

“I blame myself, sirs”, Mr. Pyle said, sniffing mournfully. “We were drinking down at the Anchor & Hope, not far from our ship, and he left early because he wanted to finish some paperwork. He had half an hour's start on me, three quarters tops, and when I followed him....”

His voice trailed off, and he looked deathly pale.

“It was.... horrible, sirs”, he muttered. “He'd been mauled by some sort of creature, and there was hardly anything left of him. But by the red socks he always wore – lucky he called them, hah! - and his neckerchief, I knew it was him all right.”

Holmes poured him another drink which he accepted gratefully.

“Where precisely did you find the body?” he asked gently.

“Dew Street, sir, just beyond where it meets Garrovick Lane”, the sailor said. “There's a few posh places further down the Garrovick, where some of the men who've made their fortune from the ships live.”

Holmes thought for a moment.

“Was the place that you found him on the direct route back to the ship?” he asked. The sailor frowned in thought.

“No”, he said at last. “Rightly he should've turned left down Garrovick and cut round Archery Avenue.”

“That suggests either that he may have been fleeing or possibly headed to some assignation”, Holmes explained. “What is the name of your ship, please?”

“The _“Matilda Briggs”_ , sir”, the sailor said proudly. “One of the best.” 

“Have you carried any unusual cargoes of late?”

There was a definite hesitation before the 'no'. Holmes pounced.

“Come, sir”, he said. “This man was clearly a friend as well as a superior, or you would not be here. If you wish me to investigate his death, which I must say I am inclined to do, then I must have _all_ the facts.”

The sailor nodded.

“I spoke truth sir; I have not myself been on any such voyages. However, for three months last year I was at home, waiting for my wife to give birth....”

“Successfully, I hope”, I put in. He smiled warmly.

“A son, Forrest, named for my wife's family”, he smiled. “I rejoined the ship when she got back from her last trip out east, and more than one of the men told me it hadn't been a happy voyage. The master had agreed – reluctantly, they said - to transport something back from the island of Sumatra for a gentleman in London. The fellow who wanted it shipped paid handsomely and the men all got bonuses, but they was still uneasy. No-one was allowed to see it and it came with its own guard who they all said they hated. Though us seamen are a superstitious sort, I s'pose.”

“Superstition is sometimes justified”, Holmes said. “Do you happen to know the name of the gentleman for whom this cargo was destined?”

“I don't, sir, but if you go see Tim Cash – he was my replacement for the voyage – I think he'd know. He lives in Barrowby Street, number seventy-one. He's signed onto the _“Wayfarer”_ just now, on a trip to Norway and the Arctic Circle, but she'll be back in port next Monday morning most probably in the small hours and he always has a few days home before he heads out again.”

“Thank you, sir”, Holmes said. “I promise that I shall look into this case for you. If you write your address on the doctor's notepad, I shall communicate any findings that I have to you.”

The seaman did so and left. I looked at my friend.

“This is serious, isn't it?” I ventured.

He nodded. 

“I have had my eye on certain activities in the docks for some little time”, he said. “Given the amount of trade that passes through the area, it provides good cover for the illegal as well as the legal business of men. Unfortunately there are at least five criminals of note who I believe are in a position to take advantage of that, and it will be a question of finding out which of them is behind this.”

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

I did not see Holmes for a whole week after this meeting, as a cousin of Constance's was visiting from the United States and, quite naturally, it was expected that I show them round. I have to say that I did not take well to Mr. Bull Anderson-Cooper, to whom seemingly everything was a combination of too wet, too cold or too old. Indeed, it was with the greatest relief that I accompanied him back to his ship, not so much for the company as to make sure that he quitted the country! I returned home to a telegram asking if I might be free tomorrow, as Holmes wished to call on the replacement skipper of the _”Matilda Briggs”_ , Mr Timothy Cash. 

Our visit did not go quite as I might have expected. We were met at the door by a young blond fellow who, when Holmes stated his purpose, looked positively hostile.

“I'm not risking what happened to poor Cap'n Warner happening to my dad!” he said firmly. “No questions!”

“May I at least hear that from him?” Holmes asked.

The young man, who was quite well-built, looked set to respond until he caught sight of me over Holmes' shoulder. And his expression completely changed.

“Doctor Watson!”

“Pardon?” I said. I did not know this man from Adam. He chuckled.

“Of course, you never actually met me”, he smiled, to my further confusion. “Eighty-three it was. You treated one of the Winstanley-Fotheringham sisters for a skin complaint, big house in Upney.”

I did remember such an unusual name. Three sisters who had lived in a ludicrously large house, all of them unmarried, at which fact I had not been the least bit surprised as their manners had been atrocious! Not only did the house smell so strongly of lavender that it had made me feel ill, but they clearly considered themselves to have been doing me a favour by summoning me. And to cap it all, the surgery had had to threaten legal action to get them to pay for my services!

“I remember them well”, I said ruefully. “Insufferable women!”

“I'm Martin Cash; me and my sister Peg worked at the house then as I was off the ships with a leg injury”, he explained. “Peg was the maid you looked at who had much the same thing as Miss Rose, and those stuck-up toffs said it wasn't worth treating a servant. That was until you told them that the longer anyone in the house had the disease, the more likely it was that the rest of them would become infected.”

I blushed. I did not like to lie to my patients, but those terrible women had rubbed me up the wrong way. Miss Lavinia had questioned me as to why the unction for the servants was a different one to that which her sister had been given, and I had been perhaps a tad less than truthful in telling her that the one her sister had was for the richest patients only. In truth I had merely added some walnut essence to the same preparation, knowing that it would make certain patients feel superior. I may or may not have also charged some way above my usual rate for said treatment. Accidents do happen.

“Come on in, friend!”, Mr. Cash smiled. “I'm sure dad would love to meet you!”

Holmes gave me a look as I passed him, and even though I could not see any outward sign of it I knew that he was smiling.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

Mr. Cash's father did indeed have the information that Holmes required. 

“Me and the lads thought he had a woman down there one time”, he chuckled. “The guy who was with the crate always took down enough food for two or three people; guess he thought us sailors were too dumb to notice something like that. None of us were allowed down there; Bob got yelled at for walking down the corridor just to get to the store room, for Christ's sake!”

“How big was the crate?” Holmes asked.

“I only saw it being loaded, sir”, Mr. Cash said. “I'd say... big enough so a man could sit hunched up inside, but not spread out. Maybe four foot all round, I'm not sure.”

“And the gentleman it was bound for?” Holmes asked. “I do not suppose you happen to remember his name?”

“Mr. Septimus Balliston-Wyre”, our host said at once. He smiled at my surprised expression. “The sailor who trained me up on my first ever ship, the _“Witch of Endor”_ , he was a Septimus, and I thought of him holding a ball of wire. The name kinda stuck in the old noggin.”

“You have a most excellent memory, sir”, Holmes said, placing a half-crown on the table. “We thank you for this important information. The doctor and I must set about finding this man, and seeing what he has to say for himself.

But as things turned out we did not get to see Mr. Septimus Balliston-Wyre. At least, not alive.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

We journeyed back west, stopping at Holmes' insistence at my favourite dining-place in Trafalgar Square. Whilst waiting for our food I purchased a newspaper from a vendor across the street, and perused it as Holmes sucked on his pipe. Then I let out a sudden gasp.

“What is it?” he asked, concerned.

“Listen to this!” I said. “'Police are investigating a savage killing in Conway Square not far from the Great Eastern Railway terminus at Liverpool Street Station. At approximate nine o'clock this morning servants at the house of a Mr. Septimus Balliston-Wyre discovered their master's body lying in the narrow alley that runs along the side of their house. The man had been most brutally and savagely attacked, and early indications are that he died from either blood loss or shock. There were also found footmarks in the vicinity that suggest the presence of a large predator of some sort.'”

“I doubt that Mr. Septimus Balliston-Wyre was killed by a Bengal tiger that just happened to be passing through the East End between hunts”, Holmes said dryly. “Is there anything else?”

“They have appended a sketch of one of the foot-marks”, I said. “A rather poor quality one; it looks like a bird.”

“Unless the thing was a reincarnation of Prometheus, I think that we might rule out a giant eagle too”, Holmes said. “This is most worrisome. Now we have no other choice but to sit and wait for further developments.”

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

Which is what we had to do. Days passed, but it seemed as if whatever had killed those two men – assuming that it was a single creature – had either moved on or had met its own maker. That was until the start of the week after, when a particularly cold night saw a third attack.

“I do not know if it is good news or bad news that the victim survived”, I observed the following day, “since he was clearly drunk at the time.”

“I would dare say that the victim disagrees with you on that point”, Holmes said with a smile. 

A young sailor by the name of George Bell had been attacked, returning from a tavern to his ship. He had been badly mauled, but had been lucky enough to be carrying a knife and had managed to wound his attacker. He had fully expected the assault to continue but his assailant had fled, shrieking in pain. 

“He claims that he was attacked by a giant rat!” I said incredulously. “How many pints did he have for Heaven's sake?”

Holmes looked at me pointedly.

“Assuming as seems likely that Mr. Darwin is correct”, he said, “it is quite improbable that _homo sapiens_ is the only species to survive the lottery that is evolution. And as we push into more remote parts of the world, the more likely it is that we may stumble across some of our less successful cousins. Just as we diverged from the ape family, so somewhere further back humanity and rats must have had a common mammalian ancestor.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Do you think that that was what poor Mr. Septimus Balliston-Wyre did?” I asked. “Or at least, that he purchased some rat-human thing that had been found out East?”

Holmes frowned.

“I very much fear so”, he said. “If the creature did come to England courtesy of Captain Warner and his ship, then that explains a lot. The only inconsistency is that this attack took place over two miles from that on the captain, and nearly three from the one on Mr. Balliston-Wyre. I would not have expected such a creature to move so far, as presumably other victims were equally available nearby. Hunters are rational creatures or they starve.”

“Maybe the Giant Rat of Sumatra needs a giant-sized hunting area?” I suggested. Holmes shook his head.

“I have an idea”, he said. “It depends very much on when the next attack takes place.”

“You think that there will be more attacks?” I asked worriedly.

“I am sure of it”, he said. “But at least it narrows down the options as to who is behind it. Collectors of rare species are, perhaps fortunately, rare themselves, and it would also have to have been someone capable of paying for the creature – maybe more than one creature – to be transported all the way to England. I shall have to visit my brother Mycroft at his club, and see if he can shed any light on things.”

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

We subsequently interviewed the sailor who had been attacked, but obtained nothing new from him. He stuck to his story of a giant rat, complete with giant tail. I privately thought that some of his shipmates had been playing a joke on him, but as the month progressed I was forced to revise that opinion. For Holmes's prediction about further attacks proved horribly accurate. 

The third incident had been on a Friday, and on each Friday that followed there was a further attack. On the seventh a couple walking home from church were attacked, but the giant rat or whatever it was fled when the lady screamed for help and whacked it with her umbrella. On the fourteenth a female prostitute was found dead, again having been severely mauled. By the twenty-first people were unwilling to go out, and a young fellow was only saved from being the next victim because a policeman heard his cries for help and came running whilst blowing his whistle, which scared the attacker off. A middle-aged businessman returning home from the City was severely mauled in an attack a further seven days later, but survived his attack when passers-by came to his assistance. Like the previous victim, he recovered from his injuries after some time in hospital.

During this time Holmes was investigating something to do with all these attacks, although unusually he kept it from me. I knew that the attacks were unsettling him, not just because of their very nature but due to the fact that I had to travel through this area to reach some of my clients, and he feared for me. I promised to take extra care when near any of the attack sites, and even started taking my gun with me just to make his feel less uneasy. I told myself that every day except Friday was safe, but I feared that with my luck, I might just end up being the one victim who broke the pattern. My only good fortune at this time was that Constance had been invited to Scotland and the house of one of her friends for a couple of months, and was hopefully unaware of the situation in London.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

It was the Thursday after the most recent attack, and the city was keyed up for what might be the next one. It was a cold day for spring, the thick fog had chilled my bones even in the short distance from the cab to the door of 221B, and I was giving silent thanks for a warm fire and good company when my friend spoke.

“I think that I may have solved the case.”

I looked up sharply.

“The Giant Rat killings?” I asked.

“Yes”, he said. “You read the reports about the examination of the victims, did you not?”

I shuddered at the memories.

“Of what was left of them”, I corrected.

“And one of the examining physicians said he had found a piece of cloth caught in Captain Warner's moustache?” Holmes said.

“Yes”, I said slowly. “What of it?”

“We are going hunting”, he said. “You will need your gun, and make sure that it is fully loaded.”

That worried me, especially when I saw Holmes taking out his own revolver and loading it. He was a far better shot than I, which suggested that whatever we were coming up against needed several bullets to take it down. It was not just the cold London air that made me shiver.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

“His name”, Holmes said as we were driven in the direction of the docks, “is Philippe Fitzroi Louis Edouard de Villeneuve-St. Jacques, but he is better known by his title of Baron Maupertuis. He is a formidable criminal talent, and not one of the people whom I initially suspected as he prefers to operate out of his native Luxembourg. But with London being the centre for world trade that it is he has recently been funnelling his activities through our fair city.”

It was so foggy this close to the Thames that I could barely see the horse ahead of us, let alone 'our fair city'. I shuddered.

“What does he specialize in?” I asked.

“His criminal income comes mostly through fraud and corrupting government officials in and around Luxembourg”, Holmes said. “However, his peculiar hobby is collecting rare animals; as so often with such men there is always the drive to possess something that his rivals do not. He has been building up a collection of rare creatures somewhere in the docks, and thanks to the efforts of Miss Richards' information agency – I have to say that even that formidable lady blanched when I showed her details of the matter – I now know where.”

“But what has that to do with the attacks?” I asked.

“They were mostly a diversion”, Holmes explained. “The warehouse he uses is in the one part of the docks that has not been targeted. As you might expect, the Metropolitan Police Service has laid on extra patrols in the areas that have been hit, which means less attention where the Baron does not wish it. We are here.”

We alighted from the cab by an old warehouse; I noted how quickly the cabbie sped off, hardly waiting for his fare, even. Once we were inside, Holmes opened the bag he had brought with him. I did not know what to expect, but it was not what he pulled out.

“Books?” I queried. 

“We may be in for a wait of several hours”, he said. “If all goes well, we may have more than one bird in the bag before the night is out.”

He handed me Æschylus, and I sat down on a rickety-looking wooden chair by a window that was so dirty, it barely admitted any light at all, even after Holmes had given it a quick wipe-down. Luckily the sky was clear and the moon, although not quite full, shone brightly. Our vigil began.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

There had been two ships by the docks when we had arrived, and some hours later there were signs of activity on one of them. It must have been close to midnight, an unusual time to load or unload anything. Four men came off the ship and a fifth man emerged from the darkness to greet them. There was the sound of conversation, then the shortest of the four took what looked like a coat from one of the others and began to slip it on. Except that it was no ordinary coat. I gasped, loud in the silence of the huge building. He was donning the costume of a giant rat!

“You were right!” I hissed, as man became vermin. 

Even though I could not see it, I knew Holmes was smiling in the darkness. 

“The only road out is the one we came in on”, he whispered, “and the back door of this place faces onto it. Once our 'rat' has moved to secure tonight's victim, we shall be ready for him.”

I nodded, and readied myself for action.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

Action there was, but not what either of us had been expecting. After a further ten minutes there was what sounded like a loud hiss from somewhere nearby, and all five men looked up in surprise. The next instant something charged from the shadows and was amongst them, biting and tearing as they all tried to flee in panic. There was the sound of two gunshots, both muffled as if at extremely close range, and the sound of snarling and men screaming, followed by a further two shots. The whole thing lasted for what seemed like an age but what was most probably less than a minute before all was silent again. Holmes and I looked at each other, readied our weapons and made our way out of the warehouse.

The scene that greeted us was horrific. The five men – what was left of them - lay all about us, but my attention was drawn to a sixth body on the edge of the quayside, which was far from human. It was as if someone had taken a rat and simply decided to make it three-quarter human-sized. It was, perhaps mercifully, almost dead. Holmes did not hesitate before pushing it over the edge with his foot, and it disappeared with a splash into the dark water.

I quickly assessed the five men. Three, including the one half into the rat costume, were dead, and the fourth was beyond all mortal help. The fifth was not badly injured but had merely been stunned into unconsciousness. Holmes tutted beside me.

“It would of course be the Baron who survived”, he muttered. “I have half a mind to send him into the water after his 'pet'.”

I was strongly tempted to help him, but he shook his head.

“Lestrade should be here shortly”, he said, “with some of his men. Help me tie the man up, doctor, and then you can administer some treatment to him. Preferably something painful!”

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

By some act of divine Providence the all-knowing Mrs. Hudson had a meal ready for us as we stumbled in at two in the morning, and we only had to wait a few moments for it to be heated up. We fell upon her offering as if it were our last meal on earth.

“How did you know?” I asked once we were finished. He sat back. 

“I had originally dismissed the idea of the giant rat being real”, he admitted ruefully. “I suspected that the first attack was a set-up because it was so convenient, especially after the cloth that was found.”

I stared at him in confusion.

“Convenient?” I asked.

“That the captain of the ship that brought in a mysterious cargo and the man it was purportedly addressed to should both meet their Maker so soon after the ship's arrival struck me as rather too timely”, Holmes said. “I would hazard that both incidents were much the same; an attack from behind in which the victim was chloroformed, and then their body savaged to fake a rodent attack. In the first case a piece of cloth caught in the airway, which would hardly have happened in a real creature killing. 

“But the other attacks were all staged?” I asked. He nodded.

“The fact that they always occurred on a Friday struck me as odd”, he said. “Rodents are notoriously hungry, and the bigger they are the more they need to consume. If a dangerous creature is known to hunt in a certain area, people tend for obvious reasons to avoid it. I made inquiries as to which ships, if any, always returned to port on that day. I nearly misfired because I found nothing, but then I realized my mistake. Since the attacks took place in the small hours of Friday morning, the ship might dock any time on Thursday, and sure enough I found the _“St. Benedict”_ which makes a weekly crossing to Rotterdam, which as you saw was one of the ships at the quayside.”

“What will become of Baron Maupertuis”, I asked. He frowned.

“He is a citizen of Luxembourg”, he said, “and I very much fear that the British government, not wishing to stir up anything unpleasant along the Franco-German border just now, may allow him to return to his native land to face justice there. I have therefore used the offices of the estimable Miss Richards to inform the sailors on board his ship just how he deals with seamen he has no use for. We shall soon see if they take exception to that.”

See we did. Holmes was right about the British government, and it was agreed that he would be tried by a Luxembourg court rather than a British one. But those who live by the sword so often die by it, and I was not surprised to read a short time later that a certain Baron Maupertuis had been lost at sea, having been swept off a ship's deck by a freak wave.

Indeed.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩


End file.
